Book of Days_ A Novel - James L. Rubart [74]
"So you're like Thomas, wanting to see the nail marks in Jesus' hand before he believed."
"You're right. I do."
"His love is an ocean, Cameron. It's so vast you can't take it all in."
He didn't respond. From the frown on his face it was apparent her question needled him.
Cameron scowled, more at himself than Ann; although he didn't care if she saw it. Talk about going for the soft underbelly. Deep down he'd always envied Jessie's and his dad's faith. It gave them meaning. It gave them purpose. It was probably why Jessie had that inexplicable look of peace on her face when she died.
Part of him had always wanted to believe. Ever since he could remember, his dad had loved him fiercely. The idea that the supreme being of the universe felt the same way about him was almost overpowering. The being that made all the stars in the universe loved him?
But there was no proof. Take it on faith, take it on faith, God is real. Sorry, faith wasn't enough.
If the book was real, he'd get back his memories of Jessie. He might be healed of the rampage taking place in his brain. And it would mean God and heaven exist, and Cameron would see her and his dad again.
But what if his path ended with a much more realistic outcome? The book being just an idea, a spiritual state of consciousness like all the other religions of the world? What would he do then? Comfort himself with the fact that neither Jessie nor his dad was anything more than dust, just a few years ahead of him?
Deep in his gut he knew the book couldn't be genuine. When would he admit it enough to go home and slowly watch his mind fade into nothingness?
Out of the corner of his eye he saw Ann's weight shift, and he focused on the small outcropping her left foot now rested on.
Oh no.
"Cameron!"
The crack that started the moment Ann put her full weight on the tiny nub, snapped a second later and she fell. As she careened past him, her weight wrenched him backward and his anchor slipped from its crack in the rock.
He reacted without thought and lunged up to where he could grab a handhold. If he didn't make the jump, Ann's weight would yank him off the tiny ledge his toes were on and they would fall at least thirty feet—if his other anchors held. Thirty feet was enough to badly injure them.
If the anchors failed, the fall could be enough to kill them.
Come on! If he couldn't get a hold before the rope snapped taut . . .
Got it! Yes.
The rope went stiff an instant later and the pressure ripped Cameron's right hand off the ledge. "Arrrgh!" Pain sliced through the fingers of his left hand like a knife but he held on, then lunged with his hand and caught hold again. "Ann!"
No answer. Not good. She could have slammed into the wall and been knocked unconscious. He couldn't keep this hold much longer.
"Ann!"
Time slowed to a crawl, the strain on his fingers faded into the background as an epiphany washed over him in a moment brilliant of clarity. In seconds the weight of Ann's body would force his fingers from their cling to life, and slipping off the clothes of mortality would become a distinct possibility.
He would join Jessie at last. It would finally be over, and his question of whether she was waiting for him would be answered.
But in that moment a revelation coursed through him—he didn't want to die. It wasn't time. It wasn't right. Not yet. No matter what was happening inside his brain, he would fight for life.
Time stopped as a feeling appeared as if a massive red theater curtain had been drawn back. An emotion he buried at the moment of Jessie's death. Hope.
Hope for life, hope he could feel joy again.
That he could love someone and be loved by someone.
That he could live a life that would make Jessie and his dad proud.
"Ann!"
"Uhhh." A moan floated up to him.
"Stay with me! Can you hear me?"
"Cameron?" It was just above a whisper, but yes! she was conscious.
He risked a look down, but the ridge jutting out blocked his view. "Can you move?"
No answer.
He had to hold on!
A gust of wind whipped against